Beauty Is In the Eye of the Beholder
by DeniseV
Summary: Beauty can be found in the most unexpected places.


"What time did he say he was leaving?"

"Said he'd be headin' back no later than one. Said that even if the rains came, he'd still be able to get back in time for a nap and a good night of poker."

"Took his poncho."

"He took somethin' to protect that horse o' his, too."

Chris Larabee, Josiah Sanchez, Vin Tanner and Buck Wilmington, four of the men who counted as members of the group of peacekeepers now-famously known as "The Magnificent Seven", sat at their regular table at the formerly named Standish Tavern. It was near seven o'clock in the evening in early August, but the time of day was way later than any of them expected to see the always fancily dressed member of their group walk through the batwing doors. They were having their supper, and worrying amongst themselves where Ezra Standish was. The gambler had joined their healer Nathan Jackson on a visit to the Seminole village on the reservation, volunteering for a second time in a row as Nathan's assistant. The two men had finally come to terms with their difficult past together. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that Ezra was working extra hard on their friendship, working harder, in fact, than any of them ever remembered seeing Ezra work on anything. Most things seemed to come effortlessly to the clever and talented card player, but much like he had successfully done with Chris Larabee, finally, Ezra had turned his efforts to making a better relationship with the former slave. Nathan seemed equally determined to nurture their friendship. Buck had dubbed it 'A beautiful thing'.

"He should just stay there, wait out the rain," Chris suggested.

"He won't. Stage came in today," Vin noted.

"Fresh pickins," Buck said. "Somethin' taste different with these beans?" he asked, frowning as he looked them over to see if something new was in them.

"Buck, Inez stood right here not long ago and told us that it was a special," Josiah said. All of a sudden, Buck's eyes began to drip tears, a gusher of tears once he blinked. Chris waved his arm and Inez Rocios stepped to the table and placed a mug of milk in front of the ladies' man, slamming it hard before him, the white liquid splashing on the table, on Buck's shirtfront … on his lap. Buck ignored the mess and quickly downed half the glass.

"She said she made it extra-hot for the Martinez family, came in on the stage," Vin reminded, his smile huge as he enjoyed watching Buck's suffering reaction to the heat of the various peppers in the rice and beans that normally were still hot, just not _that_ hot.

"She said she could tone it down if we asked," Chris said.

"We all asked," Josiah explained.

"'cept you," Vin said, still smiling. Buck remained far from any condition to respond, so his friends kept on as they were.

"You know, if you'd actually listen to her instead of makin' eyes at her, you might just have saved yourself a lot of heart ache, if you get my drift," Josiah added. Chris snorted a laugh at his old friend. Vin and Josiah had Chris laughing heartily soon enough at their still-crying friend.

"Since you shouldn't _be_ makin' eyes at her at all, you should just start listening to what she says. Maybe if you'd stop makin' eyes at her she might've _made_ you listen to her about the chile peppers," Chris added.

"Ve … Very fun … " Buck choked, wiped more tears from his face, then finished, "fu … funny." He took another swallow of the milk and said, "This don … don't seem … to be he … ." He choked again, caught the drip from his nose with his napkin, and finished, "Helpin'."

"Try some water," Vin suggested as he pushed his glass to the dark-haired gunman. Buck drained the remainder of the water in the glass, and then looked around the table for more.

As the handsome gunman waited out the heat, his face wet with sweat and redder than what seemed healthy, Yosemite rushed in to the saloon and headed straight for their table.

"Mr. Larabee," he started. "Sorry to interrupt, but … Mr. Nathan … his horse. He just showed up."

"Just his horse?" Josiah asked worriedly. The big man removed the napkin from his shirtfront and placed it on the table as he stood.

"Yes, and … ." The liveryman paused, not really anxious to depart the next piece of information.

"And?" Chris asked, his eyes steely as he waited impatiently for the man to continue.

"There's blood on the saddle." That was all it took to get all four men up and out of their chairs.

"Only got another hour o' light. Clouds'll make it impossible to track at night," Vin said.

"We'll get as far as we can."

"Chris, why would Nathan's horse …" Josiah stopped as he saw the look in their leader's eyes, a look full of concern.

"Chaucer might be hurt. Ezra's a fine horseman, but anything can happen when you're ridin' a horse you're not familiar with."

The dire situation seemed to have healed Buck's overheated state. If nothing else, it put his suffering in perspective. He frowned with worry at the discussion they were having.

"We all goin'?"

"No. Josiah, you and J.D. can stay here."

The former preacher looked decidedly unhappy at the directive, but he did not question their leader. "We'll take care of things. You take care out there," he added, followed by, "Bring him home."

As the four of them reached the saloon's exit, J.D. Dunne rushed in.

"Oh. You already heard?" he asked.

"'Bout Nate's horse? Yeah," Buck answered.

"Nate's horse?" J.D. asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Yes, J.D.," Yosemite said. "I was just telling them … "

"Tiny and I just saw Chaucer galloping into town. Tiny's taking care of him. He looks bad, worn out."

"Hell," Vin said.

"Maybe they both came back," Buck said, his voice a little hoarse … his tone a lot worried.

"Nathan said he'd be stayin' ta spend time with Rain," Vin reminded them all.

"Must've changed his mind," Chris countered. He looked up to the sky. "Come on, let's head out." To J.D. he asked, "You said Chaucer was runnin' hard?"

"Yeah."

Chris then verified some information from Yosemite. "Buster, too?" Vin chuckled lightly. Chris returned his patented Larabee stare to his friend. That didn't do anything but make Vin laugh harder; Vin was astounded that Chris even knew Buster's name. Their horses were important to each man, but for some reason, Chris had only managed to remember the name of Pony, Erza's horse, and Vin's, though Peso only got called by his given name less than half of the time. More often, the poorly behaved equine was called 'mule' and 'stubborn pot o' glue' and 'cheval bourguignon', a suggestion Chris had gladly adopted from their resident professional poker player … and fluent speaker of French.

"He was definitely sweaty. Tired," Yosemite answered. "But the blood … "

"Yeah," Chris agreed. The blood was worrisome. "Thanks, Yosemite."

"We'll start getting your horses saddled."

"Thanks," Vin said. He turned to Chris. "You wanna go talk to Mary and Inez?"

"Not particularly, but I guess I better." The tall man in black headed to the newspaper office first, to see Mary Travis.

"Ten minutes," Vin called. "At the livery."

"I'll be there."

* * *

"Ah hope that this binding holds, Mistah Jackson. Ah am no man of medicine like your fine self, and bein' down one hand has not helped."

Ezra swiped the most recent accumulation of sweat from his brow. Nathan remained unconscious. The southerner had been enormously grateful for that fact, initially, as he tended to the healer's bloody head and broken arm. But now, after just more than an hour, all that Ezra wanted was for his friend to wake up. An extrovert due to profession, though he did not come by that characteristic naturally, it wasn't at the top of his list to sit with one unconscious man and two dead ones, especially not in the middle of the open desert as evening darkened to night. The con man didn't even have the luxury of being able to move the dead bodies of the men who had ambushed them on their way home. Though he seemed to hurt all over, his badly wrenched knee had pained him to the point of a near faint each of the two times he'd tried to put weight on it. A third man was decent enough to meet his death away from the hastily built camp.

"Ah suppose that our fine steeds headin' toward Four Corners will result in our rescue in due time." The gambler placed his good hand over his eyes to shelter them from the still-blinding brilliance of the setting sun. "It would have been decent of these … gentlemen to have attacked us in some shade," he continued. A small piñon pine, its growth stunted by the harsh environment, and a parched cottonwood whose dead leaves cast the smallest of shadow just feet from a long dried up creek bed was all the protection the dry desert location offered over the course of the last hour or so. Ezra had placed Nathan in the best of that cover, as well as he could with his own injuries. That meant that the fair-skinned southerner was taking the worst of the heat and the burn at the remains of this day.

As the two men started home from the village, Ezra was quick to question Nathan's decision to head back to town so soon. That had certainly not been the black man's intent. He talked enthusiastically with Ezra on their ride to the village about the time he'd planned to spend with Rain. Nathan was, in Ezra's eyes, completely smitten with the lovely Seminole woman, and justifiably so. Beauty. Fire. Intelligence. It seemed that the southerner, the gunslinger and the healer were all drawn to the same characteristics in a woman. Even young J.D. was drawn to a young girl who showed similar spunk, even at her young age. Ezra knew that Casey Wells might yet be too young to manifest some of those qualities outwardly, but she had also, though suffering the loss of her parents, lived less of her life on her own and borne fewer of the difficulties that women alone in the West had. Living such lives – a young widow raising her son on her own, an Indian, displaced more than once and witnessing the death of her father, a Mexican woman who had faced abuse at the hands of a man and left her homeland to make a life on her own in a dusty American frontier town – could change a person, sometimes not necessarily for the better. These three women were really quite something. Extraordinary women.

As Ezra contemplated these complicated women, he found himself tipping toward the ground. Luckily, he had sat himself down favoring his fractured forearm, so he fell to the other side. He avoided falling completely, though the sudden stop did nothing good for his myriad of aches, not the least being the bone sticking up through the skin just below his elbow, which he had hastily wrapped, and his mess of a knee. The now-present headache that was beginning to overwhelm him he'd tried not to worry about, but it was far more than worrying now. He'd only taken a small sip of water since their ambush. He needed to save what was left from the already woefully limited amount that remained after he'd cleaned Nathan's head wound, and he needed to make sure the former slave got a good drink when he woke up.

If he woke up.

"Mistah Jackson," Ezra said as he rubbed his tired eyes and aching head. "Nathan, Ah would be ever-grateful if you would join me in this torture. Ah recognize how selfish the request is; you would be in terrible pain, and awake only to … to help keep me from slumber to see … our friends comin'." He yawned once more and lay down, not wanting to fall down to the hard ground when Morpheus inevitably took him. He could not say for sure whether his 'Ah am sorry, Nathan' was even said out loud.

* * *

"We're lucky the skies cleared," Buck said.

"And that we got a near full moon," Chris added.

"It'll be in and out," Vin added, more interested in what he was looking at, reading and collating the signs he'd seen so far to determine if they were still heading in the right direction. The accomplished tracker easily found the trail of both Ezra and Nathan's horses. The horses had been running together for some time, which confirmed to the three men looking for their two friends that whatever mess they were in, they were in it together. For Buck, there was comfort in knowing that the two men had each other to rely on, whatever had happened. For Chris, it only enhanced his worry that both men were injured enough that they'd lost their mounts in whatever skirmish had sent the animals back to town. Vin kept his own counsel, for now, on what might have happened for his friends to have not made it home and to be separated from the animals that were so important to their survival in the west.

"You wanna keep going, Vin?" Chris asked.

"Yeah." He was on the ground, kneeling beside the signs on the ground. Chris was too far away, still up on Pony, to see anything significant, but there were many times when he'd been right down on the ground with Vin and still didn't see what his friend saw.

"Can you tell if we're gettin' close?" Buck asked. They'd been riding and stopping … and riding and stopping some more for nearly two hours. If they rode too much farther they would be at the near-edge of the reservation. It would certainly be no time before seeing anything in front of them would become impossible, so dark that it would be unsafe to continue, even with a full moon.

"We are. Keep yer eyes open and yer ears peeled. We should take it real slow," Vin said. He took Peso's reins and started walking.

Buck Wilmington had always had especially good night vision - better to see angry fathers and even angrier husbands, when necessary - so it was no surprise to Chris when he heard the ladies' man say, "Right there. That small tree." Chris and Vin turned to see which direction Buck was indicating.

"Yeah. Stay here," Vin said as he handed Peso off to Chris. They were very near where more than one horse had taken a misstep and hurtled down a sheer cliff, sometimes with their rider. None of them wanted that for their treasured steeds. The rugged beauty of the territory could at times be horribly deadly.

The former bounty hunter walked closer to the dark mound that Buck had sighted. Almost immediately, Chris and Buck heard the sound of Vin's boots crunching on the dry, hard-packed desert floor, at a run, followed quickly by, "It's them!" The leader of The Seven and his long-time friend made their way quickly, following Vin to their two fellow lawmen.

"Ezra?" the long-haired Texan asked.

"Vin?" he heard Nathan say. Vin looked to his right and saw the vague shape of his friend with the warm, resonant voice, a voice that was currently weak and projecting pain and worry.

"Nate? You all right?" Chris asked as he headed to the black man.

"Been better. How's Ezra?"

"He's out," Vin replied. "Ezra?" Vin tapped the gambler's cheek and said, a little louder, "Ezra!" The card sharp moaned, but otherwise remained well out of it.

"Where're ya hurt, Nate?" Chris asked as Buck got a fire going. They were lucky the moon still shown bright as they stumbled upon their friends; the clouds had just made another appearance and begun to block their light.

"I'm all right."

"Ya got a broken arm, Nate. Don't think that's all right and I don't think that's all ya got wrong," Chris said.

Nathan looked toward Ezra and then down at his arm. He could feel the rudimentary splint made from sticks and then he felt the cloth on his head with his good hand.

"Got knocked in the head when those fellas shot at us." He looked at his arm again as Chris handed him a canteen. Nathan took a good swig and then said, "Ez must o' got them to head away. Fixed me up."

"They didn't get away," Buck told the healer. "At least two of 'em are dead."

"There were three," Nathan noted, slowly coming to the realization that Ezra had been forced to fight all three men off once the black man had been knocked hard on his head – and unconscious - by a rifle. "How's Ezra?" Nathan asked as he carefully rubbed his aching head.

"Still out," Vin said. "Looks like he's got a broke arm, too." The former bounty hunter continued trying to wake his unconscious friend. "Ez, come on. Know ya like at sleep. Ya gotta wake up now."

Ezra groaned, and then offered, "Not mah shift."

Nathan started to move toward the injury-prone man, but sat back down hard as dizziness overtook him. "What're ya doin'?" Chris asked irritably as he held the former slave steady.

"Why was he unconscious?" Nathan asked.

"Don't know," Vin answered. "If he's been out a while, he'll need some water.

"Ah do. Ah … Ah … am af … afraid Ah … ." Whatever Ezra was trying to say, he remained disturbingly unsuccessful in getting his point across. His worry, though, was clearer as he added with genuine concern, "Nathan?" He attempted getting up, as Nathan had, but Vin kept his injured and disoriented friend on the ground.

"I'm all right, Ezra," Nathan called.

"Ah was … attemptin' con … conversation … Mistah Jackson."

"Ez, let's git some water into ya," Buck said as he helped Vin raise the injured southerner up in order to consume the desperately needed fluids. The high desert was no place to be injured and unconscious for any period of time.

"Ah … Ah am … fine." Ezra stopped speaking, his worried, quizzical expression making it clear that he was not sure of what he wanted to say next. "What?" he asked as he gratefully accepted help in getting a drink from his friends.

"It's all right, Ezra. You just need some water and some rest," Nathan assured his friend, though the look he gave Chris revealed how truly concerned he was about the con man's disorientation. "Check him all over," he said to Chris. The healer gave himself a silent appraisal. "Left the canteen with me. Musta known he was gonna pass out. Took care o' all my needs before he did."

"He's like that," Vin said. Nathan nodded his agreement, his eyes glassy with unshed tears. _'What if he dies?'_ Nathan thought. "He's gonna be fine, Nate," Vin assured his friend.

"Funny how he don't want people to know he's 'like that'," Buck noted. He started to lay Ezra back down, but the card sharp grabbed the mustachioed man's arm with his good hand and stopped the action.

"Dizzy." Ezra blinked his eyes woozily and said, "Let me sit up."

"Well, hoss, there ain't nothin' to lean up against. How 'bout you lean up on me for now?" Buck suggested.

"Vin, go get one of the saddles so Buck don't break his back," Chris suggested.

"You hinting that I'm gettin' old, old pard?" Buck asked with a warm smile. "Much obliged, Vin," he added, more seriously. Ezra rested heavily against Buck's chest, clearly not making any attempt to follow the conversation. "He's tremblin'," the lean gunman said.

"I see," Chris said. "It's coolin' down fast with the cloud cover." Chris could just make out the familiar rock formations in the distance; soon enough even that would fade to pitch black without the assistance of the full moon.

"Could be shock, Chris," Nathan said.

"Got all the bedrolls, and yer extra blanket, Buck," Vin said as he dropped everything and then helped Chris set the saddle behind the man who now acted as Ezra's bed.

"Good," Nathan said. "Did you find anything other than his arm and the lack of water?" the healer asked as he watched Buck tap Ezra's face to keep him awake and give him another drink.

"Ah … am … fine," Ezra got out irritably between persistent shivering.

"Ya ain't, damn it. You gonna tell me where else yer hurtin' or do I have ta manhandle ya?" Chris asked with annoyance and not a little bit of urgency.

"Easy, Chris," Buck warned. To Ezra, the ladies' man gently said, "Need ta know if ya got any holes need patchin'. You've hidden that from us more 'n once in those fancy clothes."

The thought of Chris attacking him where he hurt got the card sharp talking. "Mah knee is … not good. Mah arm. One of those miscreants kicked me … mah lower back."

"Hell," three voices said at once. Then Nathan added a fourth. "You hurtin' bad there?"

"Mah head is causing me more misery."

"Answer the question, Ez," Chris ordered.

Ezra did his best to offer a glare to the leader of the law enforcement group from Four Corners, but the effort only succeeded in paining his head more.

"It is not as bad … as other times."

"Ez," Vin pleaded, looking for a straight answer, the same as Chris, Buck and Nathan had already tried.

"Ah am certain that we will not be headin' home until mornin'. Ah will be fine by then."

Chris shook his head. Damned man was a pain in the ass when he was hurt. Since they were all familiar with the multiple injuries that Ezra had suffered to his kidneys in the past, he knew how he could confirm that the man was okay to head 'home' in the morning.

"We'll check that when you need to use the privy," he said.

"Aw, hell," Ezra quickly replied. Laughter made its way around the camp.

"All right. Vin, head on home. Bring back a wagon."

"Ah have every confidence that Mistah Jackson and Ah … "

"Forget it," Chris said, cutting the con man off. "We only got three horses. You two," he said, indicating his two injured friends with a nod each as he kneeled in front of the card sharp, "only have two good arms between ya." Chris lightly placed his hand on Ezra's knee. It was terribly swollen, the flesh pushing firmly up against the material of the man's fancy pinstriped trousers. "You can't ride with your knee like that."

Ezra shied back at the faint touch, hissed with renewed pain, sighed in frustration, and leaned heavier into Buck.

"That's the right idea," Buck encouraged as he kept his arm across the gambler's uninjured side and held him steady, his hand held comfortingly against Ezra's chest. He could feel that the tremors were slowing, whether because his friend was warming up or because he was feeling safe or for some other reason, Buck could not say. "Let's let Vin and Chris set that arm and look at that knee."

"There will be no slicing of this haberdashery," Ezra warned, punctuating the threat with a yawn. "There is nothing to be done about it out here. If you insist on wrappin' it, you may wrap around the fine fabric." He yawned again.

"Get him to drink some more before he falls asleep," Nathan suggested.

"Ah feel fine," Ezra insisted as his chin dropped down to his chest. Buck tapped the southerner's cheek, not allowing him his sleep just yet.

"Here," Chris said as he handed the canteen to Buck.

"Ah can hold it mahself," Ezra complained as he took hold of the canteen. Buck pulled it back and removed the cap, and then returned it to his sleepy, injured companion, who drank down a goodly amount of the refreshing-yet-tepid water. He seemed much better, much more alert than when his three fellow lawmen had arrived. They all were more than aware that Ezra's skills at the con were easily adapted to a tendency to hide how poorly he might be feeling. They would need to watch him. And they could thank, or rather, blame Maude Standish for that.

"All done?" Buck asked as Ezra handed the canteen back.

"Yes."

"You still feelin' dizzy?" Buck queried. Ezra seemed ready to give an answer – the wrong answer – when Buck added, "Don't lie to me. I'm comfortable here. Just rest easy." The professional poker player seemed unable to find his poker face. He rested even heavier into his friend's strong, warm chest.

"Thank you, Buck." He didn't directly answer Buck's question, but he didn't have to. He was snoring lightly in no time at all.

"What about his arm?" Vin asked.

"Just keep it immobile, for now. We'll set it, which we're gonna need to, and splint it in the morning," Nathan replied. He looked down at his own broken arm, which had been set and splinted, and wondered what kind of pain Ezra must have endured in order to manage such fine nursing. His friend was full of surprises, which they'd all eventually learned was no surprise at all.

* * *

Chris and Vin had decided that though the tracker could make his way back to town overnight, he would not return with the wagon until the break of daylight. Chris knew, though, that when Vin showed up less than an hour beyond the rising of the sun that his friend left Four Corners well before he should have. But the leader of the town's lawmen also knew that there would be nothing but a scowl from the Texan if Chris bothered to mention how dangerous it could have been taking a wagon out in the near-black sky of a desert morning.

"Robert, thanks for coming," Chris said as he shook the man's hand.

"Happy to help. Sorry for the reason why," the rancher and sometime temporary law enforcer Robert Merton said.

"J.D. stayed in town. Josiah and Gloria Potter headed out to the Dillard's place. Agnes is havin' her baby," Vin informed the former gunslinger.

"She is?" Nathan asked, worry as well as a large dose of regret in his tone.

"Don't go frettin', Nate," Buck said quietly so as not to waken the still-sleeping Ezra, who they placed up against the saddle and bundled in blankets near the fire. "Weren't your fault you didn't get back. You weren't even s'posed to be back to town for another couple o' days."

Nathan nodded. "I know, but this is 'bout two weeks early." The healer accepted the mug of coffee from the ladies' man with a grateful nod. The sun hadn't been up long enough yet to take away the overnight chill that lingered in the air. "Havin' a baby early … there can be complications."

"Josiah's delivered a few babies in his time," Vin noted as he grabbed himself a cup of coffee. He took a swig and added, "So has Gloria." He took another drink and smiled, knowing that Chris had brought some of Ezra's good stuff with him on this journey. _'Must be keepin' it in his saddlebag'_, the former bounty hunter thought. Vin watched as Nathan caught the grin. He cocked his head and then asked the black man, "How're you feelin'?"

"Head hurts, but it's better than yesterday. Arm's achin'."

"We'll get some of your fine healin' tea in ya before we get goin'," Buck said with a devilish smile. Vin snorted, knowing that Nathan was just as bad as the rest of them when it came to taking his medicine.

"Robert, can ya help me with these bodies?" Chris asked. He saw the two extra horses tied to the back of the wagon. Each horse carried a bundle of tied up cloth they would be using to wrap the dead men in. They would have the horses carry one man a piece, the third body they could tie on to the step at the back of the wagon.

"Sure, Chris." The rancher tossed the dregs of his coffee onto the fire and headed to the two horses.

Vin turned to Buck. "How's Ez?"

The earlier, playful grin left the town Lothario's face. "He didn't sleep so good last night." He looked over to the still-recumbent gambler. "Guess he's makin' up for it now."

"His arm is hurtin' him bad," Nathan said. "That leg ain't helpin'. Now that you're here we can get a better look at how bad it is," he added as he glanced to the sky, acknowledging the improving light. "Buck, you wanna wake him up?"

"No." Vin laughed as he walked past the tall, dark haired main. As he approached the card sharp, looking pathetic as he rested mostly sitting up against Buck's saddle, he called his friend's name.

"Ezra, it's time to get up."

The con man opened his eyes, greeted Vin with a dull glare and a grunt, then looked up to find the sun just over the tracker's shoulder, seemingly mesmerized by the bright orb as it arced over the desolate desert landscape. He offered the tracker another glare as he closed his eyes.

"No, ya ain't goin' back ta bed," Vin chastised his sleepy fellow lawman.

"Mistah Tanner, Ah recognize that to you this might well-qualify as 'bed', but Ah assure you it is nothing of the sort. Sleep, perhaps, rudimentary as it is." Ezra closed his eyes once more, but Vin placed his hand on the card sharp's good arm. He squeezed it gently to get the southerner's attention.

"Come on. Nate's gonna look at your arm before we load the two o' you on the wagon."

"Nothin' quite so special as being classified as cargo," Ezra said as Vin helped him to a sitting position. "Might Ah use whatever is functioning as a privy?"

"'Fraid there ain't much privacy fer yer privy," Buck noted, amused with himself. "Best we got is that small bush behind the horses."

"That will … " Ezra stopped as a sudden and wholly unexpected wave of lightheadedness hit. Vin and Buck both saw their friend lose the rest of the color that remained on his face. "Mah … Ah … Ah do not … Buck!" Ezra called in warning as he turned and vomited. He hadn't eaten much in the last while, as evidenced by the watery puddle, and was soon only dry-heaving, his friends holding him up and away from the mess and supporting as best they could his arm and swollen knee. Buck had jumped out of the way, just in time, to avoid getting the mostly-liquid vomit all over his boots.

Chris led the way back to camp with one dead body draped across one horse, the horse Robert Merton ponied holding two.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Don't know. I'll ask once he's ready. Just started pukin'," Nathan explained.

"Mistah Jackson," Ezra started, panting to draw in some much-needed fresh air, "as a man … of medicine, could you … use the proper … medical term?" he pleaded. The sick man gratefully took the canteen Vin offered him, first to rinse his mouth of the vile, bilious taste, and then to take a good swig. He was on his knees, which had to hurt like hell, and was being held in place once more by Buck's gentle hands.

"Not too much," Nathan warned. Ezra nodded to acknowledge the wise counsel, but only just barely for fear of bringing on more sickness, which seemed likely considering how ill the card sharp looked just then.

"You don't like 'puked'?" Buck asked.

"No."

"Reckon ya ain't too keen on 'hurl', either," Vin suggested with a grin. Ezra scowled at the Texan's alleged humor.

"Is 'gag' any better?" Buck asked. It was now his turn to be on the receiving end of a glower from the gambler.

"What about … " Chris started, but he stopped in his tracks as he watched Ezra bend over with another bout of nausea. He left behind a small puddle as he suffered through more dry heaves.

Nathan enlisted Robert's help in rising and made his way to his friend and regular patient.

"You sure you didn't hit your head when ya got knocked from your horse?" the healer asked.

"Ah did n … " Ezra started in reply, but as he ran his hand through his sweaty, tousled hair, he stopped, felt the bump, and then looked to Nathan, his eyes wide with surprise.

"Ah, hell, Ezra. You could have a concussion. Shoulda woke ya up a couple o' times overnight," the black man said.

"Then Ah am relieved that you did not know. Ah am fine. And now that we both know of mah head injury, mah unpleasant … illness is readily explained." The professional poker player tried to get up, but the former slave stopped him.

"I need to look at your arm and that knee."

"And Ah still must relieve mahself. Quite desperately, now," Ezra said as an embarrassed flush blossomed on his face.

"Oh." Nathan looked chagrined, and then he looked from Ezra's bad arm back to his own.

"I'll take 'im."

"Thank you, Mistah Tanner."

"You got to watch his water, see if there's any blood in it."

"Good Lord!"

By the time they returned, Ezra was looking peaked once more.

"All clear, Nate," Vin said. "Well … "

"Don't you dare … " Ezra tried to interrupt his mischievous friend.

"More yellow than clear. Definitely no red."

"Dear Lord in heaven, Ah am surrounded by barbarians," Ezra whined.

"But you know you love us," Buck said. Ezra stared at the handsome gunman, but he broke into an involuntary smile pretty quickly. "Knew it," Buck added with a wink. Ezra rolled his eyes, moaned lightly from the action, and then closed them. It was quiet around the camp a little longer than Ezra felt was right. He opened his eyes and could see the regret in Nathan's expressive face as his friend looked at Ezra's arm. The card sharp acted to ease his friend's concern.

"Shall we?" Ezra asked.

"Yeah. Buck, can you stay here? I'll need you to help me set it."

Ezra rubbed his head where he'd found the lump earlier and asked, "Will you have the strength to accomplish the task, considering your own injury?"

"I don't know."

Ezra frowned. "Would it not make more sense to wait, then, and have Josiah do it with Buck upon our return home?"

"It's better to do it as soon after the break as possible. You've already been too long without it bein' seen to," Nathan insisted.

"Ah understand that, but … well, let us proceed."

Nathan nodded, but he realized what Ezra was trying to say, even though he clearly was refraining from saying it out loud. He understood that his friend from the south was only making certain that he wouldn't suffer more pain should the healer falter in his attempt to set the arm, because of lack of strength due to his own broken bone. The fact was that Nathan was not sure if he could do it, but he was certain that the others could do no better. Ezra needed the full use of his arm, and the best chance at a full recovery was with the arm getting set now.

Buck and Nathan discussed what would happen and got in position. "You ready?" Nathan asked the former Texas Ranger.

"Let's do it," Buck said, reading the anxiety on the con man's face. Ezra closed his eyes. Seeing this, Nathan tapped Buck's shoulder. He pointed to his own face and mouthed _'One'_. Buck nodded. Nathan's _'Two'_ had the ladies' man ready to provide the counter-pressure needed to move the bone back in place. On _'Three'_, Nathan pulled Ezra's forearm as Buck held firm on the upper arm. Ezra screamed in pain, and then breathed in heavily and offered a high-pitched grunt. Chris, Vin and Robert all watched, and they all winced in sympathy. Vin looked away and shook his head, knowing that Ezra had just passed out from the pain.

"What?" Chris asked.

"Nothin'," the former bounty hunter said as he headed to the wagon. The leader of The Seven looked at Robert, who shrugged his shoulders and leaned down to get another cup of coffee. Chris shook his head and stepped over to see how Ezra was doing, knowing that Vin was biting his tongue about something.

"How's … " he started to ask, to find out how Ezra's arm was, but he was cut off sharply by an angry Nathan Jackson.

"He fainted. I … I couldn't get enough leverage, but I had to keep tryin'. The pain was too much. I hurt him," Nathan finished morosely.

"Now, Nate. Ya said it yerself. It's better for him to have it done now," Buck answered in an attempt to reassure his upset friend. "We got it back in place."

"But he'll have more pain, swellin'. If I'd done it right … "

"You did the right thing, Nate," Chris said.

"I don't know. He said … he asked if I would have enough strength … 'cause of my arm," Nathan said, waving his own, injured appendage at his friends to emphasize his point. He dropped his arm against his stomach. "How'd he do this?" he asked, nodding down to indicate his own damaged limb once more. "He ain't even a healer. He don't do this kind of thing regular or nothin'. I just don't know how … " Nathan was cut off by Robert Merton.

"You fellas've known him longer than me, but I learned pretty darn fast that Ezra Standish isn't at all how he appears. There's a hidden depth to the man, and a deep well of good that's not even close to running dry."

"He'll surprise ya each time , if ya let 'im. But it shouldn't be a surprise to any of us when he does things like this," Vin added. He cocked his head, sensing that something had changed behind him, and offered an affectionate grin. "You back with us, Ezra?"

"Would that Ah could will it otherwise but, yes, Mistah Tanner, Ah am still here."

"Then let's get that arm wrapped between these nice sticks I found and get us home," Buck said.

"I can do this part, Nate," Vin offered. To Chris he said, "Robert and you got those fellers all set?"

"Just need to put the third one at the back once we get Nathan and Ezra loaded."

"So it is Mistah Jackson and mahself both who will be hauled like freight on a train?" the gambler asked irritably. "Ah often wonder why it is that we are so often in such a hurry."

"That's 'cause we're usually waitin' on you, hoss," Buck offered as he and Vin worked gently and carefully to splint Ezra's arm.

"You have, not unexpectedly, missed mah point entirely, Mistah Wilmington. Have none of you gentlemen taken a look at this mornin's sky? Ah believe Ah have not seen … ah!" Ezra stopped talking and then hissed in pain.

"Sorry, Ez. I thought we were bein' careful with your arm," Vin said apologetically. Buck frowned, confident that they had not done anything to bring extra pain to their friend.

"Might be broke worse than I could tell," Nathan suggested. "I am sorry, Ezra."

"Nathan, please. There is no need for that. It was mah leg. Buck's gun knocked into it. At least, Ah _hope_ it was his gun," Ezra added lightly.

"Hell, Ez, don't think there's much you could do that would do _that_ to me. You ain't exactly my type," the notorious Lothario said.

"Nor you mine," Ezra said softly.

"Did you drink all of that tea?" the healer asked.

Vin and Buck looked over to Nathan and then to each other and said simultaneously, "You gave it to him, right?"

Chris stepped over to the fire and picked up the still-warm mug with bits of herbs floating on the top. He took the warm medicinal tea over to the southerner. "Drink it now."

"I thought you were gettin' it."

"Never said I was."

"Nate told you … "

"Nate told _us_ … "

"I guess Nate will know better than to give either one of you a less than direct order anymore," Chris said.

"I guess Nate will," Nathan agreed with dripping sarcasm. And once more he said to the hurting con man, "Sorry, Ezra."

Through gritted teeth as his arm ached and his leg throbbed and the medicinal tea made him feel nauseous once more, Ezra said, "Ah will instruct one of mah nurses here to strike you at the back of the head if you persist with these unwarranted apologies. Ah surmise that Ah would select Mistah Wilmington, as he seems to have perfected said assault against our young sheriff." Nathan kept quiet, but they could all sense that the black man was feeling a bit put out from Ezra's scolding. "Nathan, you have done nothing wrong, you must know that." Ezra sighed as Buck and Vin finished with his arm.

"You feelin' all right?" Vin asked worriedly. Ezra had paled noticeably in the last few minutes.

"Not especially."

"Are we ready to get going?" Chris asked. A round of 'Yes', 'Yeah' and 'You bet, old pard' had them readying the patients, loading the wagon and on the trail back to Four Corners within fifteen minutes.

* * *

"You ready to head inside?"

"When we were out on the trail, Ah wondered why we were always in such a hurry," Ezra replied, not answering Chris' question directly. "Have you been watching this evening's sunset?"

"No. Been busy. Didn't think you really cared too much about that sort of thing," the gunslinger commented.

"Beauty always interests me." The con man sat on his rocking chair on the boardwalk in front of the saloon. The hound dog Fred sat on a blanket atop an upside down crate, enjoying the repetitive petting from Ezra. "Whether it is the extraordinary colors of the sky with the setting sun … "

"Or the rising sun," Vin suggested as he stepped up to where Chris and Ezra sat, each with a mug of beer.

"Ah would not know," Ezra retorted before Chris had a chance to answer the same way. "Or the stunning beauty of a fine woman," Ezra continued, his eyes drifting to the batwing doors of the saloon. "The red rock of the desert, covered in snow, a fine sculpture in a museum, a poem, written from the heart," he went on as he shared a glance with Vin, "or the conformation of a thoroughbred," he finished, nodding his head to Chris, who returned the same by way of agreement with the thought. All three men watched as the sky morphed from the pinks and blues of early evening to the reddish-orange and the purple that so reminded them of Ezra's jacket, the one that the gambler was forever correcting his friends about. The _aubergine_ one.

"We're all busy men, Ezra," Buck said as he caught the gist of the conversation upon his arrival. "Don't really got time for the pretties. Well, except for one of those pretty things," he added as he watching two young women walking down the avenue.

"There should always be time to take a few minutes to appreciate the glories that God has blessed us with," Josiah said as he and Nathan joined the group.

"A man of taste and sophistication," Ezra said as he gave Buck a look that projected that he felt just the opposite in regard to the ladies' man, at least at this particular moment.

"It sure is a pretty night," Nathan said.

"Almost as pretty as your Rain," Josiah said.

Nathan shared a huge smile with his friends, lowered his head as he thought of the beautiful and fiery Seminole woman and agreed, "Almost." The former slave looked over to the southerner and shared a look, both men smiling over something only the two of them knew. Nathan blushed, though only Ezra and the former preacher picked up on it. Josiah was happy to see this, to see Nathan and Ezra this way, and also to validate that there was no reason to worry about Nathan and Rain. He had been worrying – for days now – about why his friend hadn't stayed at the village the day two of his friends' horses had returned home, rider less.

"How is Missus Dillard?" Ezra asked in an attempt to re-direct the conversation in order to alleviate some of Nathan's embarrassment. He knew that Nathan was out earlier in the day to see how things had gone without him at the birth of the newest Dillard child.

"Agnes and the baby are fine," Nathan answered. "A good birth," he said, slapping Josiah on the back. "She had a healthy baby boy."

"That's great!" J.D. said, loudly and enthusiastically as the last of The Magnificent Seven showed up for supper.

"That it is," Ezra agreed. From J.D.'s wide smile, Ezra surreptitiously looked from one friend to the next, and then he directed his eyes back to the setting sun, closing them in order to close off the sudden creep of tears.

"You ready to go inside now, Ezra?" Chris asked again.

"Ah am famished," he replied, once more not really answering the question. He rose slowly, using the fancy cane he'd received as a gift some time ago, for some other injury. He gave Fred a quick scratch at his neck. "Go on home, Fred," he said. The little orange and white dog headed obediently down the avenue to his home with the Mertons. Ezra turned to find his six friends waiting for him around the doorway of the saloon. Buck smiled and held one of the batwing doors open, Chris getting the other one. Josiah indicated that the still-healing man with the cane should precede them into the drinking establishment for the casual meal that Inez had planned for them. Ezra could easily have waxed poetic about how at this very moment he was _only_ famished for food, that his heart and soul felt full, overflowing at times, between his affection for Inez … not a perfect union, but one they were happy to muddle their way through, his surprising, ever-growing affection for this town and its people, his feelings for these men, his friends, but he knew that these men, save Vin, would never let him live the words down. He would have to find other ways to let each of his six friends … his comrades … his brothers, know that they, too, could have been added to the list of beautiful things in his life.

He would have to be creative in paraphrasing that.

The End.


End file.
